Price of a Soul
by SethMaxwell06
Summary: Since his earliest memories, Harry always felt like he was being watched; like someone was waiting for him. On the eve of his eleventh birthday, Harry meets a man with red eyes who offers him freedom from his hellish life. But the price is Harry's soul.


Finally finished with this. I was having trouble deciding where to go with the plot since originally this was going to be about Harry making a deal with Sebastian in order to seek revenge for Sirius' death. But then it turned into this and yeah. I'm not completey happy with the ending, but my brain has been less than compliant with my demands as of late so I guess I'll just have to suck it up. Anyway, please read and let me know what you think. I've proof read this several times but I still might have missed some stuff. So any misspellings or grammer issues will be ignored cause I can't find the energy to care. Also I seriously don't want to read flames for this. I usually don't write stories with this type of relationship, but it was appropriate for the plot. So if you don't like it, then fucking click back and pretend you never saw this. For those of you who don't mind, enjoy!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters of Harry Potter or Kuroshitsuji. I wish I did cause then I'd be rich, but I don't so FML

**Warnings:** Shota/chan (whatever the hell you want to call it; relationship between an older man and a young boy), Seduction, Lemon, violence, gore, AU, OOC most likely

**Pairing:** _Sebastian/Harry_

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**_Price of a Soul_**

_A Kuroshitsuji/HP crossover_

Since as far back as Harry could remember, he always felt the sensation of being watched. He couldn't find it in himself to doubt that it wasn't just his imagination and it had seriously frightened him at first. He was a small child after all and heard stories of the boogieman and monsters in the dark. But over time his fear melted away. There was nothing threatening or hateful about the invisible gaze. It wasn't like his so called family who merely sneered at him and looked at him as if he was the foulest thing they had ever come across.

Rather it almost seemed like he was being observed or judged. Sometimes it was like the eyes could never get enough of him; there were points where the gaze was so burning and heavy he would shiver, feeling like he was being devoured. Never in his life had Harry ever felt as wanted as he did in those moments. His family didn't want him, they made that obvious to him every day whether by words or actions.

Harry knew that he wasn't normal, that nothing about his situation was right or customary. He was rather bright for his age and very observant despite his reclusive nature. He understood from his observations that kids were not normally scolded as harshly as he was or hit as often. Normal children were praised with smiles or treats if they did well in school. Harry was beaten if he did, the Dursleys often accusing him of cheating or stealing their precious "Dudder's" homework even though his cousin was as smart as a clump of dirt.

Normal children wore fresh, nice clothes that fit them while he wore discarded, second hand rags that his whale of a cousin out grew. Normal children were loved by their families and teachers, he was despised by them. After all most of the people in his neighborhood and school thought he was the devil incarnate. The Dursleys had spread rumors about him being a problem child in order to throw off suspicion about his clothing or the occasional bruises that he couldn't cover up.

Either way Harry understood that there was nothing about his situation that was ordinary or average despite his efforts in trying to be normal. Things happened to him or around him, things that couldn't be explained. But when they did happen, two things usually followed. The eyes felt gleeful and amused, as if they couldn't get enough of the strange antics that went on around Harry. Then there was his Uncle. Vernon hated whenever anything he dubbed "freakish" happened and usually took it out on his nephew. It would range from yelling, to smacking him around and sometimes even beating him with a belt depending on the severity of the occurrence.

Deep in his heart hidden from the rest of the world, Harry hated his life and his family if he could even call them that. He hated how he was treated, despised their so called normal life with their perfect house and their perfect yard pretending that they weren't rotten and twisted on the inside. He just wanted to destroy it all, bring it all crashing down in a blazing inferno of rage and hatred. But he couldn't because Harry was just a child, an angry and vengeful child but a child none the less. Whoever had left him with his relatives must have been off their rocker to do so if they honestly though the Dursleys could be capable of kindness. What kind of child could be happy in such a home, constantly belittled and assaulted for even the tiniest mistakes?

But he could do nothing. He could only grin, nod and bear it to the best of his ability. And all the while his sanity slowly chips away, fueling the deeply buried hatred. His only saving grace is the eyes, the gaze that always watches him. He feels safe with them, feels like he's seen as Harry and nothing else. Those eyes don't expect anything from him, they only want him, all that he is. And sometimes Harry wished the owner of that gaze would just come for him, take him away from his hell on earth. He didn't care where they went or what he had to do, it was better than what he had to deal with now.

And he told the person so on the night of his sixth birthday. The house was deathly quiet, it was dark since it was the night of a new moon and his relatives were asleep snoring away in their beds while Harry lay wide awake in the cupboard. He could only stare in the darkness and he felt the eyes stare back, as if waiting for something.

"Who are you?" he questioned. He didn't receive a reply, but this didn't discourage him. He tried again, "Are you going to take me away?"

Still no answer, but he felt the presence there. It was the faint sigh of breathing and the softest brush of what felt like feathers that let Harry know that the creature was there. He continued on, "I hate this place and I hate these people, you know I do. I can feel you all the time, always watching me and I feel safe. I can't stand being here, in this cupboard in this twisted house with this horrid family. I just want to sleep and never wake, go to someplace where they can never reach me. Will you take me there?"

Harry listened, strained himself to pick up the smallest sound until he relaxed and sighed as hands brushed along his sides, over his shoulders and finally cupped his face. Yet he still couldn't see his watcher, but he felt his presence heavy as it loomed over him. It was warm and safe, soothing which compelled Harry to close his eyes. And without realizing it, he found himself drifting away while a voice spoke in a soft purr, "Not yet little kitten, but soon."

Another year passed before Harry heard from his watcher again. Like before it was his birthday and he was turning seven, but it wasn't a happy day. It never was really, but Harry had long since stopped caring that he could never properly celebrate his day of birth. It was just one less disappointment he had to worry about because he already had enough to deal with in his short life. It was getting harder to pretend, to keep his head down and take the brunt of his relatives' hatred. Between his cousin's bullying, his aunt's constant screeching and his uncle's need to mar his skin with bruises, Harry's patience was low.

Resting on his stomach, Harry stared blankly at the wall and tried to breath. His back hurt, burned from belting he had gotten hours before and he wasn't surprised it still stung. Vernon was never one for holding back when it came to the belt and Harry was sure he was going to be tender tomorrow. All he could do was breath and allow the hatred to fester, simmer within him. He wasn't sure why he allowed it to linger inside him, but something told him he would need it so he kept that dark part of himself close.

The shifting of clothing drew his attention and he blinked, but didn't move listening. He tensed slightly when he felt a large form crouch over him, trapping him without any way to escape. Yet his muscles melted and relaxed when he heard a deep voice chuckle, the owner no doubt amused by his paranoia. Lips hovered near his ear, "Rest kitten, all will be well soon enough."

"Who are you?" he questioned still unable to see the creature's face although he thought he caught a glimpse of red for a brief moment. But his question was denied an answer as hands carefully lifted his shirt revealing his back. Harry inhaled sharply at the pain and bit his lip as soft breath brushed along the damaged flesh. Small hands gripped at pathetic sheets while their owner let out a startled whimper when lips began to kiss his bruises and cuts.

Harry was unsure of how to react. He had never felt anything like this, had never allowed anyone to touch him in such a way yet he couldn't deny his watcher. It felt good, it felt right and he couldn't help his sudden need for more. There were sparks of pain, but also flashes of pleasure and it warmed him, made something hot pool in his belly. And he could tell his reaction was amusing the creature, he could feel his lips curled in a smirk. But Harry couldn't find it in himself to care as he mewed, whined and panted.

Sadly, as quickly as it started it was over and he was suddenly exhausted as the heat left him. Fluttering between waking and dreaming, Harry hummed happily when he felt his blanket being tucked around him. Those same lips that had worshipped his back rested against his ear whispering, "Soon little kitten, soon." And then the creature was gone and Harry fell into the darkness of sleep.

Although his protector (for he had become one in his eyes) never spoke with him unless on his birthdays, Harry still continued to feel the sensation of being watched and slowly he began to receive small tokens, gifts from the creature in the shadows. Once, Harry had been locked up in his cupboard for three days with only pieces of bread and a bit of water to keep him alive. The only time he would be let out was to relieve himself and bath although Petunia usually gave him five minutes to wash up and if he wasn't fast enough, he would be thrown back into the cupboard wet and naked.

But it wasn't so bad because his protector brought him food, delicious food that always tasted divine on his tongue and even fabulous desserts that he only dreamed about! And there were also more blankets and even fresh clothes, always there just for him.

Another time Harry had been chased all the way from school by Dudley's gang and they had beaten him up pretty bad. Unfortunately he wasn't allowed to properly tend to his wounds, his aunt demanding he begin supper while juggling the laundry and cleaning the dishes after their meal. It was only when he was in his cupboard again that hands emerged from the darkness and expertly tended to his cuts and bruises. When all was said and done, Harry smiled happily and thanked his protector grateful for his help once more.

On and on this went as he was given more gifts. Sometimes they were necessities and other times they were pleasurable items like candy, books, the occasional toy or even beautiful black feathers. But perhaps the strangest gift Harry had received was on his tenth birthday which had been another dark and moonless night. As always he had been lying in bed awake, just thinking and occasionally moving his limbs that were beginning to grow a bit too long for him to remain in the cupboard, not that his relatives cared. Then he felt the shift and a body lingered over him, an unseeing face hovering just inches above his own and Harry smiled.

"Hello," he whispered. Red eyes gleamed with gratification as they whispered back, "Hello kitten, it's your birthday again."

"Yes… have you come to take me away?"

"No… not yet." Harry felt disappointment and tried not to pout, leaning into the hand that began to stroke his face. Quietly he questioned, "Why not?"

A thoughtful hum, "It's not time yet, but soon."

"How soon?"

"Your next birthday… that is when I shall finally take you away." Harry grinned widely wishing he could reach out and hug his protector, but he was never allowed contact unless it was instigated by the creature. So he just settled for smiling, fearing his face might split in half with how wide his mouth was stretching. A deep chuckle echoed in the darkness as the hand pulled away, the red eyes purring, "I have a present for you my little kitten."

"A present?"

"Yes, but you cannot wear it yet. Once I come for you, then you may wear it with pride," he instructed. Harry nodded and blinked when a simple collar hovered in his vision; the strap was black leather and the tag hanging off of it was engraved with a star surrounded by a strange circle; it almost looked like diamonds closely drawn together to make some sort of chain. He had no other way to describe it, but it was unusual yet fascinating.

Harry carefully took it and held it close to his heart, smiling as if he just received the best gift in the world and in his mind he had. He could tell this gift was different, certainly more special than the others and he couldn't wait until he was able to wear it. Just the thought made him want to burst with happiness a wide smile stretching on his face.

"Thank you, it's lovely," he giggled happily. He couldn't see his protector, but he could sense the other's grin, "I'm pleased you find it acceptable."

"It's the best gift ever," Harry confessed flushing innocently although he still smiled. A face tucked itself against his neck, warm breath tickling the skin drawing forth shivers and his flushed deepened when he felt lips kiss just above the collar of his shirt. Those same soft lips worked their way up his neck while hands and nails glided across his stomach and sides. Harry quivered huffing softly as his thoughts became hazy and his body tingled, his sleep pants becoming constricting.

"So innocent," was whispered in his ear, teeth nipping, "How I long for the day when I may taste that innocence and devour all that you are my little kitten." A large hand with long and nimble fingers danced down Harry's stomach with feather light touches before disappearing under the waistband of his pants drawing a startled gasp from the boy.

Harry quickly bit his lip to silence himself wishing nothing more than to voice his enjoyment, but didn't want to risk his relatives waking. So instead he clung to his protector partly surprised he was allowed, but at the moment didn't care. Just as long as those hands continued to touch him and make him feel good he didn't care what else happened.

Red eyes watched the young child writher and squirm in pleasure his shirt pushed to expose his delicate body which was flushed an endearing pink. It devoured the image, took in every detail it could as it continued to pleasure its beautiful pet until finally Harry arched. His green eyes were wide in shock, glowing with power before he slumped back into his mattress, his thighs shaking and sticky with his release.

"Beautiful," he whispered licking his fingers clean purring at the pure taste, "I'm pleased I found you. You are perfect."

Harry made no comment as he panted, his eyes drooping as exhaustion crept upon him. He barely felt his protector cleaning him up and tucking him in, but he could have sworn that lips had been pressed against his. But he didn't mind, he enjoyed the feeling of being wanted and treasured. So Harry fell asleep content and happy, knowing he only had one more year before he was free to remain with his protector.

But things had changed by his eleventh birthday, strange letters had begun to arrive for him and along with them had been a hoard of owls. Harry had never heard of anyone using owls to deliver letters before and was curious as to what the letters said. It must have been important if they continued to come no matter how hard his Uncle tried to prevent it. It had been bizarre, fantastical but also unnerving because the more letters that came, the angrier Vernon grew. Harry had seen his Uncle mad before, but never this furious and it had him on edge.

And like Harry figured, it all came to a breaking point the day before his birthday. Harry had been washing up the dinner dishes as always when it had happened. A plate had slipped from his hands due to the fact that it was still wet and crashed to the floor shattering to pieces. To make matters worse, it was a plate from Petunia's good china. Harry never knew his Uncle could move so fast when his wide form appeared in the kitchen. One look at the mess and he screamed at the top of his lungs, "BOY!"

Harry should have known better, should have been on better guard but he still wasn't prepared for the blow to the head. His conscience wavered between reality and darkness his body moving instinctively against his assault trying to fight at first before finally curling up to defend vital points. No part of Harry was spared as he was beaten with fists, feet, a belt and what might have felt like a rolling pin. All the while Vernon yelled and cursed him, called him a freak and a waste of space, that he should have drowned Harry the moment he was left on their doorstep. On and on it when as vile words spewed forth and pain rained down on him.

Bursts of agony flared along his skin and danced before his eyes as Harry remained on the floor unable to find the energy to move when it was over. He didn't even flinch when he was spat on and just listened as his Uncle walked away grumbling under his breath uncaring of Harry's condition. The man who was his guardian didn't care that he left his nephew a bloody smear on the kitchen floor, his fragile body littered with bruises and broken bones, one eye swollen shut while blood dried in several places. He was left like that even as it grew late and the Dursleys went to bed, the darkness creeping around him.

His breathing was ragged and it hurt, but Harry knew he would have to deal for the moment. He didn't know how long he laid there, his mind fading in and out. It could have been days, weeks for all he knew or could tell and for a moment Harry wondered if he would die. He wondered if this was what death felt like, but he couldn't be sure. Fate might decide to be a mega bitch and let him live to endure more torture by the hands of his "loving" relatives. He wouldn't rule it out.

Harry listened to the seconds that ticked away from the grandfather clock in the sitting room until finally it chimed twelve times announcing the hour. It was his eleventh birthday and suddenly he wasn't alone. A dark figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light of the moon which peaked through the kitchen window. Familiar arms reached out and carefully plucked him up holding him to a firm chest and for the first time Harry saw the face of his protector.

The man was handsome, his face strong and angular with elegant features that would certainly have his Aunt swooning if she ever saw him. His hair was as dark as Harry's, long bangs framing his face which held enticing lips and soul searing scarlet eyes. But those eyes were not warm, they were cold and angry as they burned with a fierce fire. For a moment Harry wondered what his protector would do, but the thought was put on hold when lips kissed his swollen eye.

"They will pay," he whispered in a quiet promise, "If you wish it, then they will pay for the pain you've had to suffer and endure. I will make it so."

"Who are you?" Harry questioned having wanted to know for so long. The man smirked darkly as he replied, "I am your savior. I am your salvation. I am the dark creature that shall give you your vengeance and destroy those who have wronged you. But there is a price."

"Price?" he echoed.

"Yes… in exchange for granting your wish, you shall belong to me. Everything you are Harry Potter, will belong to me. Your mind, your body… your soul… all of it shall be mine for eternity. Is that what you wish?"

Harry should have been frightened, should have said no and screamed for help. But this man, this dark creature had been taking care of him for so long. He was his savior, his friend, his mother and father, his everything and Harry wanted to belong to him. Because he cared for Harry as he was, saw him when no one else did. He trusted him. So he nodded whispering, "Yes… destroy them. Destroy all of those who have hurt me, burn them away and make them regret that they ever knew my name. Then I shall be yours."

Red eyes flashed and gleamed with satisfaction as he pulled the young body close, lips brushing together, "At last you are mine, my little kitten. You shall be my precious pet and I shall be your master… Sebastian Michaelis."

"Sebastian," Harry mewed quivering when he was kissed, his breath leaving him as his mouth was dominated with aggressive passion. The heat returned, the same gratifying sensation that he experienced the year before was burning through his veins and Harry wanted more, had craved it for so long. He clung to Sebastian's suit, refused to let go for fearing that this all might just be a dream and Sebastian didn't mind. He held his pet as he ravished his lips, tasting his innocence as he healed him. He would never allow such unsightly blemishes to mare his beautiful kitten.

"So perfect and you're all mine now," he thought as his hands once more moved greedily across delicate flesh, soothing the pain away and replacing it with pleasure. Sebastian had waited a long time for this, years of patience finally paying off as he partook of the tiny wizard child beneath him. Since he had first caught a whiff of the boy one summer afternoon while the small three year old tended to the roses, he wanted him.

Sebastian's mouth had watered at the scent of his blood, a pinprick upon his finger that held innocence and magic yet was tainted with a hint of darkness as well. Such a rare delicacy of a soul, he had to have it. So he had watched Harry, observed him grow and endure despite his environment smirking when he picked out the sharp intellect behind those wide green eyes.

Harry was like a beautiful porcelain doll, but there was nothing cold about him. There was a fire burning within, dark needs and emotions trapped within that were begging to be released. All these traits made Harry more desirable to Sebastian and now he would belong to the demon. No one would have the young savior, not Voldemort and certainly not the Wizarding World. He was the pet of a demon now and Sebastian was very possessive of his belongings.

Harry huffed and buried his face into the crook of Sebastian's neck gripping the back of his suit jacket as he quaked with sensational overload. It was overwhelming, his new master was a force in itself and it was swallowing him whole. Every touch, every scent and every taste was new to Harry as it drugged him and beckoned him for more. He was so hot, his blood was on fire and Sebastian's hands felt so good on his flesh. The young wizard was helpless against the demon's hypnotic eyes and sensual lips, remaining pliant upon the kitchen table as Sebastian opened up his body and stole his innocence. It hurt, it burned but it was gentle and breath taking; Harry couldn't get enough.

Soon he didn't care if his relatives heard him, he moaned, wailed and begged for more. His frail fingers tangled in strands of inky hair as Sebastian moved within his body, keeping his pets legs hooked over his broad shoulders. All the while he was staring down at Harry with his eyes glowing that hellish red, sweat trickling down his brow and lips parted as he quietly panted. And as the kitchen grew darker, the moon shifting away from the window, Sebastian bit his finger and drew the same pentagram marking that was on his hand onto the young wizard's chest. He then held the bleeding digit to Harry's lips whispering, "Drink and be mine."

Harry didn't question it, didn't hesitate as he took the finger into his mouth sucking on it and drinking the blood of his master. He gasped and moaned quivering as Sebastian quickened his pace features greedy and lustful as he observed Harry partake of his blood. Murmuring in tongues not known to humans, Sebastian's eyes flashed and he grunted as he emptied himself within Harry although his gaze never left his pet. Harry cried out around his fingers when he released moments later, eyes glowing with magic as the blood on his chest sank into his flesh and formed a tattoo, a mark of possession.

"Good, you did well Harry," Sebastian huffed carefully pulling out and cleaning them up cradling his precious pet to his chest. Summoning the collar he had given Harry the year before, he gently fastened it around his neck and tilted his head back to kiss those soft lips. Harry hummed happily returning the kiss feeling warm and safe, loved perhaps.

"So… I'm yours now?" Harry questioned curiously resting his head on Sebastian's shoulder feeling a little sleepy. Running his nose through wild hair, Sebastian smirked, "Yes, you're mine. But we also had a deal, I shall eliminate those who have harmed you and make them suffer."

"Yes," Harry whispered his eyes flashing red for a moment, "Make them pay. They don't deserve happiness nor Heaven… only despair and Hell."

"As you wish."

It was two days later that the mutilated bodies of Vernon, Petunia and Dudley Dursley were found. Despite hours of searching the house for forensic evidence, police couldn't figure out what had killed them so brutally. It had been a mess, blood splattered on almost every surface of the sitting room as the bodies laid in pieces having been torn apart in a grizzly fashion. The only things that had remained intact were their heads which had been placed neatly in a row, their eyes and tongues missing but their features twisted in grotesque horror. There were no prints, no evidence and all they could find of Harry Potter was a dried blood pool in the kitchen. He was declared missing, possibly dead.

When the Wizarding World found out what had happened to the Dursleys there was an uproar of panic. Aurors were sent to every corner of the globe to search for the missing Savior using every spell under the sun to locate him. Many investigations of suspected Death Eaters were held, their houses raided for any incriminating proof that they were linked to the boy hero's disappearance. Even Albus Dumbledore himself led the campaign to recover the young wizard.

Unfortunately no clues were ever found which led to theories and talks of scandals; some believed that the Ministry was responsible, that they feared Harry would become the next Dark Lord and had him killed. Most suspected former Death Eaters kidnapped and killed Harry in revenge for the fallen Voldemort. So many speculations but none would ever come close to the truth. None would ever know of the real tale of Harry Potter, the abused child who met a demon of hell and sold his soul for revenge; the young child that became the lover and pet of that same demon.

But life moves on, constantly shifting and changing. Years would pass as the memories of the Boy-Who-Lived fade and a Wizarding war breaks out nearly overtaking the globe in a reign of fire and death. Yet for a demon and a young boy there was little heed to be paid for the pettiness of humans. For they held no ties to them, felt no worry nor care for the future of such a self destructive species.

In the darkness they lingered out of sight and mind, mere observers untouched by the hands of time. Their world far removed from others, a castle of shadows on a lonely little island where they would spend their eternal days in each other's company. In this place Harry would dance and play music for his master while Sebastian would spoil his pet with delicious treats and make love to him on soft fur rugs in front of the fireplace. It was a paradise of their own making and Harry held no regrets.

He forgot about his life as a human, forgot about the cupboard under the stairs and the Dursleys. All that was worth remembering was the feeling of being protected, the kindness of his master and the knowledge that he was precious. He was happy, bound in the shackles of his master who stole him from the light and brought him to the comforting embrace of darkness. Harry could never regret selling his soul to Sebastian because what use did he have of a soul when all that he had ever longed for was within his grasp?

"Harry."

"Master?"

"Who do you belong to?"

Green eyes blinked curiously caught off guard by the question before a smile graced Harry's cherubic features, "You Master. My heart, my body, my soul belong only to you." A slow grin spreads across Sebastian's lips his red eyes flashing with satisfaction. What is the true price of a soul?

**The End.**

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And that's it! I feel accomplished because I'm really trying to crack down on my stories and finish them. At least the shorter ones anyway, the longer ones take more time. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Please review! Thanks!

**~Seth**


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